


Seasons of Ice

by orphan_account



Series: Seasons of Love [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-16
Updated: 2008-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 14:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco spends a year obsessing over Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Written mostly in journal form. AU after OoTP.

** (6th year for Harry and Draco) **   
__

_Journal Entry for April 14th_

I hate spring. I simply loathe and despise it. I abhor the birds, the flowers, the colors. I detest the simple joy on people’s faces when they look outside. I must say that my tolerance of spring extends to the gloomy thunderstorms that come without warning…story of my life. Unfortunately, nature seems to glow with freshness the next day…damn.

I believe it all started at the beginning of sixth year. Damn him. He called a truce saying something about growing up and how I should too. How dare he imply that I have a lack of maturity? But in and obvious show of maturity, I bit back my retort and listened. He continued blabbering on how Voldermort was his main concern now, and how he must not be allowed to win. At that point I was about to explode.

Before I could blow up, however, he asked me where my loyalties lay. How dare he? What right does he have asking me that? Since when has he cared? Then the tosser responds with how much he has not hated me for a long time.

To cut a potentially long story short, I affirmed my 'loyalties' to the light. I became a Slytherin liaison. This of course leads me to working with him, and liking him. Then just because the fates enjoy torturing me, I fall in love with the sodding git.

Him and his just shagged look, golden skin, full pink lips, and of course those mesmerizing spring green eyes. Now you know why I hate spring. Too much green. As if I don’t have it haunting me already. Every time he looks at me, brushes against me, is in the bloody same bleeding room as me, I feel like dragons are trying to start a fight with freaking thestrals in my stomach while tugging at my heart strings just for the hell of it.

Yay me.


	2. Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (After 6th year for Harry and Draco)

_   
_ _Journal Entry for August 2nd_

He’s dead. The bastard’s dead. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has and is currently He-Who-Got-His-Arse-Severely-Kicked. I should be happy and celebrating. I am not.

For protection, most students went home but some Slytherins stayed at Hogwarts to avoid the Death Eater parental units. Obviously I stayed. Somehow the trio stayed too, something about losing protection on his birthday or pish like that I didn’t bother to listen too because I was drooling over Golden Boy.

Mr. Sadistic decided to attack July 31st. guess what that day is. The bastard thought that attacking right on his birthday would be fun. The arse. Well he is Voldemort we shouldn’t be surprised. Lucky for us, we are paranoid people so we 'soldiers of light', Salazar's bollocks we sound ridiculous, were ready for him. We trained and prepared holding down Hogwarts waiting for the _Dork _Lord.

So my current heartache decidedly kicks his arse to hell. Did I mention he looks really good nowadays? Harry that is. He decided to train seriously. (I even got to teach him how to properly use a sword……with our shirts off…our sweaty bodies……panting….whoo!…but I digress) now he looks like more of a bronze god than he was before.

Unfortunately all the power he used sapped his natural magic stores and he is now lying in the infirmary on the brink of death. Currently I am writing this at his side while watching his still pallid form for any sign of life.

To make it worse it is almost like he knew he might not make it so he went around telling everybody how much they meant to him. I didn’t expect him to even bother with me, but to my hearts elation…he pulled me over to the Quidditch pitch and emoted.

Sheesh, Gryffindors.

**(Flashback)**

“Potter, you’ve dragged me out here when we should be training and preparing for the coming attack. What do you want?” I asked testily, trademark sneer on my face.

He looked up at me with those eyes that have recently dulled to a dark green, dead without feeling. “Malfoy, can we just not do this today, tonight…now. Just shut up, no matter how hard it is for you, and let me talk.” He snapped. His eyes momentarily flashing with fire then dulling to as quickly as they had lit up.

It seems the only way to make him show emotion is to piss him off. Unfortunately he had grown indifferent to that, although I can proudly say, I am the only one who can get him angry enough, albeit with a little more effort that normal, but for a brief second, there is life in his eyes. That is enough…for that second at least.

“I wanted to say thanks…I guess.” I raised an eyebrow but kept quiet and my face remained classically blank.

He looked up at the stars.

“Funny how things turn out,” he lowered his head to face me and my heart shattered at the lack of…well…anything in his normally expressive eyes.

He continued looking at me unaware that my heart clenched tighter every second that passed, “You have been a git all my years at Hogwarts. Through thick and thin you have maintained and driven a rivalry that will probably carry on centuries to come.” He smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Dumbledore was actually suggesting a portrait painted of us just to see what would happen and immortalize our legend.” He laughed mirthlessly, my lips twitched.

“I wanted to thank you for being….well, you.” He looked down. “You have been the one constant in my life,” he looked up at me, the bastard, breaking my heart. A faint glimmer passed in his eyes, “You have never wavered. Granted your loyalty to making my life miserable, even after a truce, wasn’t exactly positive, but, it was there. Always. For that, I thank you. You have no idea how much you have kept me alive. I owe you a life debt. Every jab, every burn, every taunt; it kept me alive.”

At that moment I wanted to hug him. Funnily, he did. I was in shock, and I guess he thought that my lack of response meant I was about to clock him and he started puling away, but I caught him and hugged him back.

**(End flashback)**

I don’t know how long we stood there in each other’s arms. All that I do know is that we would have still been there if Voldemort hadn’t attacked the wards right then. I don’t believe I have hated Voldemort more than I did right then.

Now my darling is lying here comatose and I’m not sure if he is even bothering to fight for his life. But he looks so peaceful.

Happy Birthday, Harry.

-x

**2 weeks later**   
_August 17th_

I can finally celebrate a Voldemort-free world.

Harry woke up yesterday!

He was a bit depressed at the death toll but a quick verbal jab from me and he did the weirdest thing…he smiled.

He smiled, the smile of angel fallen from heaven to save me.

He hugged me.

Weasel fainted.

I smiled.

Granger swooned.

I hugged back.

I do believe I now want my godfather dead.

How dare he come into the Great Hall and accuse Harry of mauling me with his Gryffindor paws, therefore touching me, therefore infecting me. His words, not mine--never mine.

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to describe in no uncertain terms just how much I wanted my golden lion to paw me.

But I held back…in yet another show of amazing patience and reserve…Ha!

All in all today was definitely one of the best I had in my life. We haven’t dealt my obsession with a certain green-eyed god but, we have our own I tease-he smiles relationship going. It’s odd, but it’s ours. I am content with it.

For now.


	3. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (7th year for Harry and Draco)

  
_Journal Entry for September 30th_

Remember that trap I spewed about being content with the occasional smiles? Bullshit. I am not content. Far from it, in fact. I was content with the smiles because they were for me, myself and I.

He is _mine_.

Only mine, damn it. How dare others bask in his smile, his glow, his light--my light?

Damn him. Damn them.

-x-

_Journal Entry for October 11th_

He seems somber about something. He smiles, yes. The smiles are real, yes. But there is sadness there. The git is probably blaming himself for something. As usual.

I found him by the lake last night. We talked, he seemed better, I think. It has been long since we had one of our talks.

**(Flashback)**

A lone figure sat by the lake deep in thought. Instinctively, I knew it was him. I moved closer to stand by him. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence. The git. I sat down beside him with my legs drawn up and my head resting on my knees. I wanted so badly to say something profound and meaningful. Instead I did something completely uncharacteristically me.

“So, lovely weather we have tonight,” .

Cue massive cringing and head slamming.

I made _small talk_. I mean seriously, when did I become that pathetic? Oh yeah, right when I dedicated my life to making him notice me when he didn't take my hand.

He smiled at me, one eyebrow raised. “Yes, lovely weather. Clear skies.” He answered head tilting up to look up at he sky.

“Orion is bright tonight.” He said as if explaining his mood in that statement. As if the world’s hardest questions could be answered, simply by that statement. Maybe he was studying to become a centaur.

“That’s great Potter.” I scoffed, after a moment, I added, “Brooding, looks kind of good on you.” Hey, at least brazen flirt is better than pathetic weather loving Hufflepuff.

He blushed in response, “I am not brooding. Just thinking heavily about…..stuff," he argued with a huff.

I snorted. “Whatever it is. Do it. If you are thinking about it this much, just do it.” I stood up and brushed myself off. I admit I was ticked off at him not telling me what it was. He always did before.

I turned to leave, but he called out,

“What if I’m thinking about suicide?”

I froze.

“Should I do _that_?”

My knees nearly gave out. I was so thankful he couldn’t see my face.

“If you really want to,” I managed to choke out. “Do it.”

Then collecting myself I turned around. Then in a veiled plea I continued with, “But who’s going to be my entertainment when you off yourself. I rather like being amazed by how you take your level of stupidity to a new high, or should I say low, everyday.” I said in my trademark drawl, patting myself on the back for maintaining an icy demeanor all the while praying to all and any deities listening to make him understand that I want, no, _need _him to live.

He laughed. Then to my immense relief, “Well fortunately for you, that isn’t what I wanted to do.” Whether he was lying or whether he took my plea for what it was, I will never know.

Don’t really care either.

He smiled again and got up then walked towards me.

My breath hitched when he stopped about half a foot from my nose.

“I want,” he got closer, “To,” even closer, so close I could feel his breath on my lips, “Go,” sooo close, “FLYING!” he shouted and ran toward the Quidditch pitch.

As he ran he called over his shoulder, “Won't you join me Draco?”

Once I got over the sheer shock and hurt I plastered a smile on my face and hastened to the pitch.

Malfoys do not run.

“What took you so long?” he had obviously _accioed _his broom and was leaning on it. He then grabbed me and somehow I was on his broom and he was sitting behind me, arms loosely around my waist so he could steer the broom, dashing through the air.

To say I was in heaven was an understatement.

I was soaring, flying, broom be damned. His chest on my back pressed heavily to me and his head resting on my shoulder, with his mouth dangerously close to my ear. Ah, so this is bliss.

As we flew, he gently placed his hands on mine so that we both had control of the broom. We were equals, our thoughts matched and there wasn't confusion on the steering, it was as if we were of one mind. We were graceful in the air when separately, but together, it was pure poetry. We matched the wind and flowed with it. Such freedom has never been matched by more deserving souls.

**(End Flashback)**

To say the least, when we landed I was devastated. But I still live and breathe. Painfully. As I couldn’t sleep off the remainder of that night and I was giddy all day.

I am still giddy tonight.

I think I love autumn, all the warm colors, warm feeling and apple and cinnamon flavors filling the Hall.

My heart is melting, slowly, and soon I won't be able to keep up the Ice Prince façade, not with him at least.


	4. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (7th year for Harry and Draco)

  
_November 29th_

Silken, flaxen hair. Pale alabaster skin. Stormy, thunderstorm eyes. He doesn’t know that I see him. I honestly don’t know if I would have lived through the war without his help. Obviously I am thankful for everyone, but him specifically, I am grateful for. I almost told him what I felt once.

Almost.

I think I must have left my Gryffindor courage in the dorm rooms.

**Draco POV**

He’s staring again.

Ever since that time at the lake and Pitch, I’ve found him staring. Sometimes it’s as if we are the only two people in the world. Other times it’s as if I don’t exist as he stares right through me. I am confused and in love.

Big surprise there.

**Harry POV**

I have had it with him. I cannot spend my last year at Hogwarts lusting and longing after my known rival. I finally have peace without death threats from snake-faced monsters with demented fan clubs, and I can't even enjoy that.

I have to talk to him.

Or else I’ll bloody blow.

I don’t think wanking is going to be enough to alleviate this crush.

**Draco POV**   
_December 16th_

I saunter into the Hall for breakfast. I am thankful it’s Saturday because I don’t think I would function in classes with the amount of sleep I didn’t get. My brain is running like a Hufflepuff’s so I can't even find the neurotransmitters to send the message to pick up the coffee on the table and pour it into my cup. I think I'm going to try and _will _it into the cup and if it doesn’t work, glare at it till it moves.

My intense concentration is broken by boisterous laughter, or should I say guffawing, coming from the doors…oh just Weasel coming into the Hall with Mudblood and _my _Golden Boy.

Obviously my concentration is severely severed and my brain decides to wake up, sort of. I am hit with images from the night before of a very exciting dream and I swear I almost blushed.

Almost.

Malfoy’s do not blush.

Malfoy’s also don’t become lovesick puppies, but there’s an exception to every rule.

I'm it, so there.

Instead of him walking to the lion’s table with his sidekick, he comes over to the Slytherin table.

Now this would not be weird because during the war, most strategy used came mainly from our table and so he sat with us for some meals. However the war is OVER.

What does he think he is doing?

He stops right in front of me and smiles at everyone at the table, and my housemates either sneer or smirk back at him.

With no hexes flying he seems to take that as an invite, and drops on the seat opposite me ungracefully.

_Those seats haven’t had anyone be _but _graceful on them in years. Poor things must in shock. A non-Slytherin on them. The horror!_

“Hi, Draco!” he greets a bit too cheerful for a bloody Saturday morning.

My brain is now more or less awake but it’s still too bloody early in the morning to deal with chirpy Gryffs.

Even if it is Harry.

“Potter, shut up.” _How eloquent of me._

I try again.

“Potter. Take your, I’m-a-ball-of-sunshine attitude and go drown it in the lake. Then proceed to feed it, and yourself, to the giant squid. I am sure even your small brain can understand such detailed instructions. If you didn’t catch it, I specified that you should also drown yourself to stop such occurrences from happening again."

_There much better._

It does not have the desired effect. If anything his smile grew wider. The sickening thing is that I find it endearing.

_Drown _me _in the lake._

_But don’t feed me to the Squid._

_I'm too pretty._

I am pulled out of my thoughts by Potter flinging a mini croissant at me.

“Come on Mr. Grumpy-puss_ (1)_” he coos.

_He’s dead to me._

He continues, unfortunately, “Don’t be so crotchety. It’s a beautiful day, enjoy it!” This he feels the need to accentuate with a thrust of his hands almost spilling the coffee.

_The man has a death wish, what can I say?_

“Potter, the only way I would enjoy this bloody day, is if you and your uber-smiley face disappear for at least until lunch time.

He looks at me with a sickeningly wide smile, winks at me, then stands up and walks to his table with all the grace of a drunken troll.

Wait.

He winked at me.

He winked at me!

Wait. Why?

Damn this is going to bother me for a long time. Thank goodness for winter break.

-x-

_December 22nd_   
**DPOV**

Almost a week and nothing, no smiling, no talking, not even the bloody winking (that normally drives me up and down the metaphoric wall)...

Sod it all.

I need a walk.  
**  
HPOV**

Avoiding him is not working. My mind wanders to him anyway, I mean, bloody hell...I winked at him!

What was I thinking?

An even better question is why the hell am I in the dungeons?

Merlin, it’s cold. I wonder if Snape purposely sends too many cooling charms to make it creepier. He probably would the bat faced wa—_oomph!_

-x-

“Potter.”

“Get. Off. Me.” Draco managed to grit out from his trapped position under Harry.

“NOW!”

Harry finally managed to realize his surroundings and scrambled to remove himself from his increasingly compromising position…until of course his mind wrapped itself around the situation. _‘Why am I moving?’_ he wondered to himself, and settled back on top of the enraged blonde.

“POTTER!”

“Oh, all right.” He moved as if to get up, “Spoiled sport.”

“What?”

Harry winced as he realized he must have said the last words out loud. He reached a hand out to Draco to help him up, who in turn glared at him and ignored the hand, righting himself up.

An awkward silence fell on the two boys with the weight of a dead giant, heavy and uncomfortable.

“What are you doing here?” Draco broke the silence, with the thought that awkward silences were undignified and Malfoys are never undignified.

Harry could do nothing but just stare at the blonde blankly. Inside him, emotions fought for expression on the surface.

Draco narrowed his eyes coldly, "Whatever, Potter." He moved to walk past him, "I'm done.

"Draco, wait!" Harry turned and called to the blonde.

"NO!" Came the answer. Draco turned around and faced Potter, he let his face show all the anger and frustration that had plagued him.

"I'm done. With your little games-hot then cold, your green eyes, and that blasted excuse of a mop you call hair!"

His shoulder's sagged as if relinquishing a much defended prize, "I understand that we are only meant to antagonize each other, even when we can somewhat tolerate each other."

"Dra-"

"No, please." He let out a bitter snort, "Imagine, a Malfoy begging."

Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco beat him to it, "And no, my excuse for a father doesn't count."

Harry smiled, _I want this...that's what I was thinking._

"What in Salazar's name are you grinning like an idiot for?"

Harry just smiled wider and closed the space between him and Draco with a kiss.

-x-

**HPOV**

That shut him up. Note to self: Kiss to silence irate dragon.

One hell of a win-win.

**DPOV**

Smug bastard, probably thinks this is a good way to shut me up.

Boy, is he in for it when we are done.

Speaking of, why am I still thinking?

-x-

END


End file.
